


From Beneath You It Devours

by Riddle_Me_Harry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry, M/M, Sane Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_Harry/pseuds/Riddle_Me_Harry
Summary: A mistake was made with the Dark Lord’s resurrection ritual and now he has to deal with the consequences of being reborn in Harry Potter’s body. However, he soon realizes that not only does he find himself in a more attractive body but he now has the ability to take Hogwarts and the wizarding world from within… and maybe, just maybe, a chance at love. SLASH (DL as HP)/SS





	1. Chapter 1

Plot: A mistake was made with the Dark Lord’s resurrection ritual and now he has to deal with the consequences of being reborn in Harry Potter’s body. However, he soon realizes that not only does he find himself in a more attractive body but he now has the ability to take Hogwarts and the wizarding world from within… and maybe, just maybe, a chance at love. SLASH (DL as HP)/SS

 

AND it will be SLASH

 

Reviews/suggestions would be much appreciated to help get this off the ground.

 

**Here is my disclaimer that says I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, except in universe 47837. Probably.**

 

* * *

 

“On three, right?” Harry said.

Cedric looked to Harry with an excited and determined look on his face and then nodded.

“One – two – three –”

At the same time both of them curled a hand around the opposing silver handles of the Triwizard Cup.

For one brief second neither could believe that they had done it, that they had won the tournament. However, before either had the chance to bask in their triumph, both felt their hand seize around the handle and then felt a hard pull at the navel. The maze soon flashed before their eyes and then their world turned upside down.

A second later and they disappeared.

            Harry’s feet were the first thing to slam into the ground when he reappeared. The force of the impact caused his injured leg to give way, and he fell forward. His hand was finally released from the cup when he instinctively threw both his arms out in front of himself to slow his fall.

Apparently Cedric had a similar experience and Harry watched as the cup flew out of the older boy’s hand too, bouncing several times before coming to a stop next to a large bush.

Cedric then turned to Harry.

“Where are we?” he said.

Harry didn’t have an answer for him.

Slowly Cedric got to his feet and then helped Harry do the same.

Wherever they were it was clear that a Portkey had taken them there. Each looked at the cup and then at each other.

“Is this supposed to be part of the task?” Cedric asked while taking in the sight of the graveyard around him.

It was most definitely eerie.

“Dunno,” Harry said.

A strange feeling began to grow in his stomach.

“Wands out I suppose,” Harry’s nervous voice sounded.

“Yeah,” Cedric agreed shakily.

With their wands drawn they moved forward. Harry’s eyes kept darting to the sides; for some reason he was sure that they were being watched.

A second later and his instincts were proven correct.

“Someone’s coming!” he hissed suddenly.

Cedric narrowed his eyes to try and make out the dark shape in the distance. Whoever – or whatever – it was began to quickly weave in and out of the graves as it made its way closer to them.

It was still too dark to make out a face but the outline of the body suggested that it was carrying something. As the dark shape got closer both boy’s became momentarily convinced that whatever was being held was an infant.

The boys shared a quick look of confusion, but when Harry turned away to focus again on the faceless individual his scar erupted with a pain he had never known before.

At once his body became nearly paralyzed as the agony overtook him, and he dropped to his knees because his body was no longer able to stand.

His wand fell, abandoned to the grass while his hands flew to his scar.

Cedric’s heart began to race with fear, but when his body finally came out of his stupor to go to Harry’s aid he heard the most unnatural sound.

“ _Kill the spare_!”

The cold voice chilled Cedric to his very core and his body froze. Time slowed down as Cedric turned his face just in time to see a blast of sickly green light leave a wand.

A wand that was pointed directly at him.

His entire life passed shortly before his eyes as death soon took him and Cedric Diggory knew no more.

His body crumbled to the ground.

Harry was barely conscious of the large thud to his right; his scar felt like molten lava had been pored inside. After retching once, the pain lessoned enough for him to take stock of his surroundings.

His eyes had just connected with the dull, lifeless stare of Cedric when the hairs on the back of his neck stuck upright.

“ _Capture him_!” a sickly but familiar voice then commanded.

Before Harry could place whose voice that belong to, a burst of magic hit his body and Harry was helpless to prevent the unseen force that moved quickly to secure his frame to the stone statue that was directly behind him.

While Harry struggled against his invisible bonds, he heard that voice again.

“ _Well done, Wormtail. Now, prepare for the ritual; I am growing impatient and have waited long enough to regain my body_!”

Only this time, Harry’s heart nearly stopped in his chest because he now knew both whom and what he was dealing with.

“Of course, master,” Wormtail responded in a groveling tone.

The outline of Peter Pettigrew was now more visible to Harry, and a sudden disgust at the sight of the man’s shape rose within his chest.

“You traitor!” Harry shouted at the man.

Focusing on Pettigrew was easier than recognizing just how screwed he was considering the other person that was there.

But Wormtail wasn’t listening, his wand had quickly gone to work and soon a large cauldron had appeared among the tombstones.

Seconds later, a great fire was lit around the copper base and it illuminated the area of the cemetery that they were in.

There was now enough light for Harry to finally be able to look into the man’s rat-like face.

“I should have let Sirius kill you when he had the chance!” Harry seethed.

“ _Harry_!” the high, chilly voice said.

There was a touch of amusement in it.

“ _Such a serious statement from Dumbledore’s golden boy. Tsk! Tsk! You should know that killing is_ my _specialty_ ,” the cold voice chided with glee.

Voldemort’s distinctive voice sent an icy chill down Harry’s spine, and he was now forced to confront the man who had made him the Boy Who Lived.

Except that Harry couldn’t find his own voice, he was paralyzed with fear.

“ _Well, Wormtail? Are you finished yet_?” the weakened Dark Lord called out again. He was impatient and wanted to get on with things.

“Nearly, master,” Wormtail whimpered.

It was obvious in both his voice and his shaking form that Pettigrew was fearful of failing the Dark Lord and he did not want to make a mistake. Not after what had happened the last time.

Finally, thought, the preparations were finished, and Wormtail called out to his master.

“It is ready, my lord.”

“ _Finally…”_

He had been without a body for much too long.

Long enough that he ignored the humiliation that came with Wormtail removing his robes to reveal his pail and hairless form. He saw the horror and revolt pass across Potter’s features, giving way to a disgusted expression.

The Dark Lord consoled himself with knowing that soon he would have his body back, and shortly thereafter the Potter brat would be begging him for death.

Voldemort continued to sneer at the boy while his barely human form was being lowered into the bubbling cauldron, and he hissed as his head dipped below the surface.

However, they had taken the necessary ritualistic precautions and the scalding water did not harm his body.

He sank to the bottom, and waited for the remaining ingredients to join him.

The sound was somewhat muffled but the Dark Lord was still able to make out Wormtail’s voice.

“ _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_ ”

His lips curled up as he felt the power of his pathetic father’s bones enter the cauldron. The bones would help to stabilize the severely caustic ingredients to follow.

Shortly thereafter, Voldemort heard Pettigrew make the next incantation.

_“Blood – of the servant – w-willingly given – you will – revive – your master.”_

His blood ran cold.

_‘What, what did he say? Blood of the servant? That imbecile! No! Noooooo!”_

The Dark Lord’s screams did nothing but contribute to the bubbles and sparks that ignited at the surface. He was beyond furious and when he got out of there he would filet Wormtail alive.

 _If_ he made it out alive, there was no telling what would happen now.

The Dark Lord shuddered in disgust as he felt Pettigrew’s willing donation rapidly dissolve on its way to becoming the binding vehicle that would hold everything together.

Next came the final ingredient and the irate Dark Lord paused in his cursing to hear what the rat did next.

_“B-body of the enemy… forcibly taken…you will… resurrect your foe.”_

The Dark Lord’s heart nearly stopped. How could the rat have gotten two out of his three simple instructions so horribly wrong?

He loathed how powerless he was in the moment, how there was absolutely nothing that he could do to prevent Harry’s body from joining him.

He had no idea how this would change the potion. Originally, the few drops of Harry’s blood was meant to strengthen his body since magic was all about intent, and he believed that taking some of the magical essence of a wizard – against their will – would provide him even more power when he assumed his old form. If he had wanted to rise more terrible than before then there was nothing that would aid him more than using the blood of the child who had been prophesized to have the power to destroy him.

Plus, it would have negated that silly protection that the boy’s mother had cast, allowing him to right a serious mistake of his past.

But now, the Dark Lord wondered what would become of him and what form he would take.

From where he sat at the bottom of the cauldron, Lord Voldemort could just make out the boy’s screams that stopped abruptly as the potion finally had all of its ingredients.

Immediately, the Dark Lord felt his body being pulled upward to join the amalgamation of blood, flesh, bone, and body.

Once there, however, he was surprised to find how normal, how familiar merging his essence with the dead remains of the boy was. Harry’s skin became his skin and the boy’s mind gave way to his. The only thing of Harry that lingered was the faintest trace of his magic, the remnants of Lily’s protection that was no match for the power of the Dark Lord’s restoration potion.

To be honest, the Dark Lord was unprepared for how _right_ this felt; though perhaps a lot of what he was feeling was colored by finally having a body that his magic was able to flow through again.

It was his favorite part about being a wizard. Besides, he had a body back and for now that was the most important thing. For he was Lord Voldemort and if he wasn’t satisfied with the situation then he simply found a way to change it. So his anger lessoned, slightly, and seconds later the cauldron exploded outward, sending Pettigrew running behind a tombstone for safety.

As the smoking debris settled, Pettigrew inched his face around the stone to see what had happened, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw the form of Harry Potter standing there.

Only it wasn’t the same Harry Potter anymore; there was a certain darkness to the boy and the man’s eyes bore straight into his soul. And even though his master didn’t have a wand Pettigrew still felt the man’s _Crucio_.

It was because of how angry the Dark Lord was that he could perform this Unforgivable Curse without a wand. Pettigrew had failed him at a time when failure was not an option.

He had made the rat practice the steps a thousand times, and still he had gotten it wrong. For a moment he gave into the desire to cause pain and it gave him time to think about his next moves since all of his plans were now utterly worthless.

Originally, he would have been calling the Death Eaters to him now, to witness and cement his return by killing the Boy Who Lived. Now that was out of the question; he couldn’t face them looking like this.

He couldn’t face anyone looking like this. They would never see past the face of Harry Potter….

His mind trailed off and so did his focus on the _Cruciatus Curse_ , leaving Wormtail shaking uncontrollably.

Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing depending on how he looked at this most unfortunate event. For example, no one would suspect that the golden boy housed the form of the Dark Lord. If he played this right he could achieve his complete domination over the wizarding world far easier than the take-the-wizarding-world-by-force approach that he had otherwise been planning.

The wizarding public had given Harry that ridiculous title of the Boy Who Lived, and that honor had come with a certain potential amount of public persuasion and power behind it.

The Dark Lord instantly thought through several ideas on how he would wield that type of influence to further his own plans until it was far too late for anyone to realize that Harry Potter wasn’t the golden boy that they had thought he would be.

Of course he would need to make a few decisions sooner rather than later seeing as how Harry Potter would need to return to Hogwarts to avert Albus Dumbledore’s nosiness from suspecting anything too severe. The man would already question that something had happened considering that Cedric Diggory was dead.

The Dark Lord’s thoughts next focused on how he would play this situation to his best advantage.

He knew that he couldn’t just play off Cedric’s death as a casualty in the maze and then reappear after this length of time with the Triwizard Cup; that would have been most suspicious to Albus.

Nor could he simply return without Cedric Diggory entirely. He also wasn’t entertaining the idea of just never returning since the longer he delayed his return to Hogwarts the less useful being Harry would be. No, he had to return to Hogwarts and he needed to do so soon; that much became painfully obvious the longer he stood there.

He just needed to find the right angle to return with.

And then the Dark Lord thought of the most ingenious solution that would explain his tardiness. Of course, he would also have to give some semblance of the truth about the Dark Lord’s return. The payoff, however, would be that he could send them on a wild goose chase searching for a fake Dark Lord in all the wrong places of the world. Because the Dark Lord knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep his return a secret forever, not with how strong the mark was now on Pettigrew’s trembling arm. No, the best thing for him to do was to distract them.

However, while the Dark Lord knew that Dumbledore would believe him, or Harry rather, immediately, the Ministry and the Minister for Magic would never accept the word of a fourteen year-old boy about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Cornelius was too much of a coward for that.

He would have to sell out Barty Crouch Jr then – and he was more than okay with that to make his story all the more convincing. The man had supposedly died in Azkaban, after all, and he was of no more use to him.

Just thinking about how he could direct everyone’s attention was pleasing to him, very pleasing. For Harry Potter would be able to rise through the chaos and make the world just as he, the Dark Lord, preferred it.

Perhaps he would even stage a battle – after killing Dumbledore, of course – to defeat a fake version of the Dark Lord and then slowly implement his true agenda over time until no one recognized anything different. Magic would finally be free and released from the archaic definitions of light or dark magic. Magic was magic and that came before all else.

And the Dark Lord knew that he could do all of this. He had now triumphed over the prophecy and knew that nothing could stand in his way. Now it was all about enjoying his rise to complete and utter wizarding domination.

Like it should have been from the beginning.

His lips curled in a truly terrifying smile that belied the age of its barer. Perhaps Wormtail’s mistake hadn’t been the _worst_ thing, after all. Still he would make sure that the rat suffered for its incompetence until the very end.

“Wormtail!” he demanded impatiently.

“Enough with your pathetic lying around. Go and fetch my wands: both of them!”

He had infused his voice with magic to draw Pettigrew out of his lazy recovery from his well-deserved punishment and took great pleasure in watching the dirty and broken man crawl across the ground with difficulty.

“H-h-hereee ma-ma-ma-master,” he stuttered, shakily handing both the Dark Lord’s original wand and Harry’s wand to him.

Curiously, both wands felt similar and he knew that Harry’s wand would serve him well. It was unexpected but something that he was grateful for since he knew that he could not return to Hogwarts with a wand that Dumbledore would recognize.

“Thank you, Wormtail,” the Dark Lord intoned with a devilish grin.

“Your service will never be forgotten.”

“My Lord… thank you!” the rat simpered.

“Hold out your injured hand.”

Peter did as he was told and with a sudden flick the Dark Lord severed the man’s hand off.

The screams were instant.

“I can’t have Dumbledore thinking anything other than what I want him too. Just think, if you hadn’t failed me, you might have lived. Still, just know that you will be of much use in death.”

“ _Avada Kedavra_ ,” he purred in the next moment, feeling the delightful wish of death surge through his own wand.

The rat died with a surprised and terrified expression on his face.

The Dark Lord’s last act with his own wand was to dirty Harry’s appearance so as to support the tale he would soon tell.

Then, he performed a rather difficult bit of wandless magic to send both Nagini and his own wand to a safe location before fingering Harry’s surprisingly responsive wand.

Finally with a last gleam of red shinning in Harry’s green eyes, he grabbed onto the dead bodies of Cedric Diggory and Peter Pettigrew and then summoned the Triwizard Cup.

The Dark Lord was returning to Hogwarts.

 

* * *

 

**Well? Would love to know your thoughts. I’ve settled on a Harry (being possessed by the Dark Lord) and Severus pairing. It will be mostly one-sided and for either the Dark Lord’s gain or enjoyment in the beginning, but over time living in Harry’s body leads to some unexpected opportunities.**


	2. Misdirection

I will be using the Dark Lord or Voldemort to describe what he is thinking and Harry to describe the physical actions. Try to. Also, my Voldemort will be a little bit saner.

 

“Speech”

_‘Internal thoughts’_

 

**Here is my disclaimer that says I do not own anything Harry Potter related. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, except in universe 47837. Probably.**

 

* * *

 

Knowing that a Portkey always defaulted back to the general location from which it came should it be activated again, Voldemort had a reasonable expectation of where he might be returning. Therefore, it was highly possible that he would end up in the maze or very close to it, and then there was the added possibility of someone witnessing his return.

So he had thought it prudent to get into character as the Boy Who Lived before he had departed his father’s cemetery.

Originally he had thought that a little stumble of the Potter brat’s feet upon arriving would do the trick, but that turned into a full-on face-plant when he materialized in the center of hundreds of restless supporters still waiting for the tournament to conclude and a victor to emerge.

‘ _Fuck_!’

He wasn’t exactly happy about pretending to slam into the ground, face-first, but he wasn’t about to take a chance with this many people watching him.

Before coming, the Dark Lord had already considered and accepted that he might have to do several things that he otherwise would _never_ have tolerated to prevent anyone from cottoning on to what had really happened to Harry Potter. Despite the fact that the Dark Lord had changed his entire year-long plan in a matter of minutes took nothing away from the fact that when he committed to something, he always saw it through to completion.

Always.

For no one could know that Harry Potter was dead and gone and he, the Dark Lord, had taken the boy’s place until he wanted it to be known.

So Voldemort stayed on the ground, Harry’s face pressed into the soft grass while the Triwizard Cup had been expertly tossed to the side during his manufactured fall. However, his left hand remained clenched to Cedric’s body while the right side of his body flinched away from the lump that was Peter Pettigrew.

Seconds later, two very large and surprisingly strong hands pulled him from the bodies and flipped him over.

“Harry! _Harry!_ ”

It took every ounce of willpower that he possessed not to inappropriately react to the worried shouts of Albus Dumbledore. Or the fact that his most loathed enemy was touching him.

But this was all part of the necessary act and so he played along, inwardly relieved that the man’s blue eyes were eyeing him over concernedly. It was a nice change of pace given that the old goat had never looked at him with anything other than suspicion and distrust.

‘ _Showtime_!’

“I saw _him_ ,” Harry whispered to Albus in an exhausted tone.

Albus did not look surprised.

“It’s okay Harry, you are safe now.”

“Cedric was killed …Unforgivable … Voldemort … ritual with W-wormtail!” Harry stuttered back.

He gasped and closed his eyes, manufacturing a shiver that visibly passed through his fourth-year frame.

“But something … happened - cauldron – an explosion!”

Harry’s eyes opened, watching Albus’ thoughtful stare with amusement behind his hidden Occlumency shields. He had readied them just in case Albus tried to pry during his little show and would be keeping them up like he always did.

Yet, Albus never tried to slip into the boy’s mind and the old man’s face remained very thoughtful.

His blue eyes were so full of concern and compassion.

“It’s okay, Harry,” the old man soothed again. “You are safe at Hogwarts now.”

The Dark Lord wanted to cackle.

He was enjoying this far too much than he wanted to admit.

But the Dark Lord didn’t get a chance to finish playing with the Headmaster for in that moment a high, worried voice approached from the side.

“What’s going on? What happened?”

The Minister’s face was turning whiter by the minute and his eyes kept darting over to where the bodies were, though his glances spent more time on Peter Pettigrew lying spread eagle on his back.

“My God – Dumbledore!”

Cornelius repeated the Headmaster’s name several times, each time managing to work his way up to the highest octave that his voice would allow.

“Dumbledore – Diggory dead! And … and …”

While the Dark Lord majorly disproved of being interrupted when he was speaking, the fact that he was now in the presence of the Minister for Magic made him forget all about it. Here was, in fact, _another_ unexpected opportunity that he could use to his advantage and influence the future in the direction that he had always wanted.

Oh, the Dark Lord was quite content with how things were playing out. He wished he could have savored the chaos that was spreading through the crowd while the teachers were trying to evacuate.

Choruses of, ‘ _Diggory’s dead!_ ’ and ‘ _Did you see that other body?_ ’ filled him with delight.

However, just as the Dark Lord was about to focus his attention on playing the Minister, the situation changed.

Cornelius’ eyes widened, refocused, and sought out Dumbledore.

“Dumbledore, Diggory’s parents. They’re here, in the stand…”

At the same time the Dark Lord then felt a new set of hands encircle around Harry’s waist.

“I’ll take Harry, Dumbledore, I’ll take him -” Moody’s voice sounded behind him.

‘ _Idiot! Fool_!’ the Dark Lord internally seethed. He needed to remain here, to make sure his version of events were heard first; first impressions were very important.

“No, I would prefer…” Dumbledore started to say before being interrupted by the Minister’s panic-fueled voice.

“ _Dumbledore_ ,” the man whined in fear. “ Amos Diggory’s running… he’s coming over… don’t you think _you_ should tell him … before he sees?”

“Harry, stay here,” the Headmaster commanded before intercepting the Diggorys.

Just as the Dark Lord began to calm he felt the hands tug hard at his navel.

“It’s all right, son, I’ve got you … come on … hospital wing.”

“No!” Harry’s voice hissed.

“Dumbledore said stay.”

But his body was being pulled away despite his protests and his shouts of “Headmaster” were lost in the noise and confusion. For a second he thought about using his magic but he knew that would be horribly out of character for the boy and he didn’t want the old goat to suspect a thing.

He would make Barty beg for death for this monumental intrusion. It didn’t matter that he had been planning on selling the man out anyways, all that changed was how the man would die. It had quite quickly gone from an instant death to death-by-torture.

But still, the Dark Lord reasoned that he would be able to salvage this. Perhaps he could even use this unexpected change of events – it would be quite easy to add to his story, in fact.

‘ _The Boy Who Lived, kidnapped twice within Hogwarts_ ,’ he could see the story in the Prophet now.

So he let himself be led to the castle, all the while doing his utmost to stay in character as the Potter brat would. It involved an enormous amount of tedious back and forth conversation as the disguised Moody tried to uncover what had happened in the graveyard.

Soon they were in Moody’s quarters and the man had begun to reveal his role to what he thought was the Potter boy. The Dark Lord played along because he had to stay in character for when the man’s memories of this moment were interrogated.

Though, when the man raised his wand at him, the Dark Lord certainly wasn’t going to just sit there anymore and do nothing.

A particularly mundane curse – by his standards anyways - had almost formed in the back of his throat as Dumbledore’s _Stupefy_ shot past him and blasted the fake Moody into the opposite wall.

“Come along, Potter,” Minerva McGonagall whispered from behind Harry with his wand still aimed at the unconscious man now slumped to the ground.

“Hospital wing.”

The Dark Lord was about to protest being removed for the second time but Dumbledore interjected.

“No.”

The Headmaster’s voice was sharp and absolute.

Professor McGonagall made to disagree anyways but was interrupted.

“He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand. Understanding is the first step to acceptance and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why.”

            McGonagall’s mouth tightened into a thin line but she nodded and moved to Harry’s side. Then Severus Snape stepped out from behind him, and the Dark Lord decided to make things more interesting before Dumbledore had a chance to continue.

            He was severely annoyed that he had needed to wait this long to tell his side of the story.

“I know why,” Harry said quietly and shakily without looking at anyone in particular.

He cradled the tip of his wand that he was holding with his left hand.

“I don’t think that is Mad Eye Moody.”

Harry was staring straight ahead at the unconscious body.

“You are correct, Harry. The real Moody would never have removed you from my side after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew – and I followed.”

Dumbledore’s gaze was focused on Harry when he turned to look at the man.

“How did you come to realize such a thing?”

“In the Graveyard,” Harry answered, “while I was there – Voldemort said something about a spy at Hogwarts that helped him; someone that wasn’t who they said they were.”

A distant, painful expression was on Harry’s face as he said this.

“And then… before you came in… and, well Moody – or whoever it is – explained it all to me in trying to find out what happened, that he had been the one to put my name into the Goblet of Fire and how he ensured my survival through the tasks… and in the maze.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Severus was looking at him strangely. Then he absently rubbed at where the Dark Lord knew the Dark Mark to be on the Potion Master’s arm.

‘ _Don’t worry, Severus, you’ll know when you’re called… and we will finally see where your true loyalty lies._ ’

“It all seems so obvious now that I’m on the other side of it,” Harry said instead.

His voice was quiet, thoughtful, but with a good deal of thankfulness for being safe at Hogwarts infused in for good measure. Now more than ever it was important to make sure no one suspected.

Dumbledore bent down and gently stroked through Harry’s thick and very dirty hair.

“Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion that you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky.”

‘ _Ah, so that is what happened to Barty’s house elf! Of course that old coot would have given the elf refuge… which means that he already had an inclination of the identity of the man being involved in some way. Interesting_.’

“Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid’s hut and bring the large, black dog up to my office. Tell him I will be with him shortly and then come back here.”

‘ _And that would be Sirius Black_.’

The Dark Lord knew about the man’s Animagus form from Pettigrew.

Snape and McGonagall left quickly and then the Dark Lord was alone with Albus. He mentally prepared himself for the extra scrutiny but he didn’t have to worry.

Albus was too fixated on trying to find where the real Moody was being held, all the while explaining to Harry about Polyjuice and how well known Moody was for only drinking out of his hip flask.

By the time they found the real Moody in the bottom of a seven-layered trunk, Snape and McGonagall had returned just in time for the Polyjuice to wear off and reveal Barty Crouch Jr.

“Crouch!” Severus exclaimed at the same moment that Minerva clutched her chest, saying, “Good heavens!” in the process.

Then the Dark Lord watched the elf’s reaction to her former master and the subsequent back and forth between the _ennervated_ Barty, Albus, and Winky as the Veritaserum revealed the role Crouch had played.

Barty told them how he had gotten out of Azkaban and how long he had been living with his father, Crouch Sr. Bertha Jorkins’ name also came up and how her knowledge had helped plan the Triwizard Tournament, and how Barty had been the one to hoodwink the Goblet to get Harry into the tournament, leading the boy all the way until he touched the Portkey and was taken to his master.

The younger Crouch was crazed with delight at the thought that the Dark Lord had succeeded in his plan. Of course, Voldemort had only told him that the potion had taken place when they were discussing the graveyard before Dumbledore came; it wasn’t _his_ vault if the man inferred that that meant it had worked according to plan.

Afterwards, the Death Eater was bound with ropes from Dumbledore’s wand. Minerva was asked to stand guard while Severus went to fetch the Minister so he could question Crouch himself.

The Dark Lord would have preferred to witness that for himself but he couldn’t as Dumbledore next led to his office where he told him that Sirius was waiting.

Along the way there was silence, expect for when Harry’s voice quietly asked where Mr. and Mrs. Diggory were. The Dark Lord figured the pathetic brat would have inquired.

Dumbledore had just given his response that were with Professor Sprout just as the two of them began to ascend up the circular stairs to the Headmaster’s guarded and secure office. Dumbledore led Harry into his chambers and the Dark Lord’s mind instantly froze inside the boy as he caught sight of Fawkes, Dumbledore’s illustrious Phoenix.

Everything was riding on the next few moments since Phoenixes were uncommonly and annoyingly intuitive.

‘ _Only if Dumbledore does not suspect that anything is out of ordinary with the Potter boy will the Phoenix go along with it; however, if Dumbledore suspects even a little – the Phoenix will nurture those same suspicions_.

Thus, the Dark Lord let himself be scooped up into Sirius’ arms, putting extra effort into the performance of finally being able to let his guard down like the boy would have in the presence of his Godfather.

Seconds turned into minutes and then what felt like hours as he spied Dumbledore and the bird out of the corner of his eye. Dumbledore was slowly making his way around his desk to sit down and the Phoenix was taking in the situation.

Next, the Dark Lord allowed Sirius to fuss over him before letting himself be led to a chair so very close to where the Phoenix was perched.

Harry’s eyes were fixated on the bird in what he hoped was a mindless fascination given the circumstances.

Finally, though he breathed an internal sigh of relief as the red and orange bird fluttered over to his injured leg and began to cry over the cuts and bruises that he had manufactured before returning to Hogwarts.

‘ _If Dumbledore doesn’t suspect me now then he never will until it is too late for him_!’

It was because of his impressive skill at Occlumency that the Dark Lord could keep the relief and glee at having fooled the Headmaster so far with his performance.

“Harry,” the Headmaster called in a voice that Voldemort recognized from his youth.

“I need to know what happened in the graveyard after you touched the Portkey.”

‘ _About bloody time_.’

“Headmaster!” Sirius cut in harshly. “Can’t that wait until morning?”

To the Dark Lord’s immense relief Dumbledore shook his head, saying something about how it would be easier on the boy to relive the events now as opposed to later.

Harry nodded and kept his eyes dancing between the Phoenix and Dumbledore as he finally got a chance to maximize Wormtail’s mistake to his complete and utter advantage.

“Cedric and I appeared in the graveyard together; neither of us had been prepared for the cup being a Portkey… it took us a few seconds to adjust to our new surroundings. When our eyes adjusted we realized we were in a graveyard and it was very dark and so we kept our wands _out_.”

The Dark Lord made Harry’s voice break at the perfect place before continuing. Harry made it a point to glance downwards at the floor as if the next part was too much for the boy to repeat.

“We then noticed a figure approaching – and my scar suddenly began to burn. I dropped to me knees because of the pain – it was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.”

The Dark Lord recalled his own perfect memory of the dramatic scene the Potter brat had made before vomiting.

“The pain began to lesson, though, and I looked up just in time to see Cedric… the Killing Curse took him instantly.”

Sirius made that weird sound with his mouth that people sometimes made when someone they cared about was hurt. The Dark Lord then felt the man’s embrace tighten and Voldemort allowed himself to be pulled even closer towards Sirius. Potter’s Godfather was practically breathing in his ear now.

‘ _Disgusting_ ,’ he seethed but continued, letting some of the discomfort from how close Sirius was to him show on his face. It perfectly mimicked the pain of having watched a fellow student having been killed in front of him.

            “I was in shock then and couldn’t even move as my body was quickly bound with magic and held to a statue. It was then I recognized that Pettigrew…” he paused as Sirius growled, “and Voldemort were there.”

            Harry turned his face towards Albus and saw nothing but compassion and understanding in his eyes.

            “It was here that Voldemort told me how his spy – Barty – had done everything from Hogwarts that caused me to end up before him. How I would be instrumental in Vold…Voldemort getting his body back.”

            Albus nodded his head encouragingly for him to continue after Harry paused to take a deep breath.

            “Then Pettigrew waved his wand and a cauldron appeared. He dropped Voldemort’s child-like form in the boiling water…”

            Harry paused again, making it seem like he was gathering the courage to continue. He closed his eyes and then quickly opened them.

            “Pettigrew started chanting, saying something about the bones of the father as a grave opened up behind him and the skeleton was added to the mix. Then the man cut his hand off and added it in there… um… again saying something about a servant’s flesh being willingly given.”

            Dumbledore was sitting very still across the table; it was clear his mind was rapidly trying to deduce what ritual it had been and what was what going to come next.

            Harry then lifted up his sleeve for the last bit.

            “Pettigrew then added some of my blood, the last ingredient. _Blood of the enemy_ ,” Harry whispered and looked at the floor like he was ashamed.

            “And forcibly taken” he concluded in a quiet voice before raising his head to see a gleam of something like triumph pass through the Headmaster’s eyes.

            ‘ _Intriguing_.’ He would have to consider _that_ action later.

            “Then what happened?” Dumbledore asked, his expression returned to normal.

            “The mixture started to bubble uncontrollably and sparks were shooting out in every which way. It got so bright that I had to close my eyes… soon afterwards I heard an explosion. The ground itself vibrated and I felt this rush of energy wash over me and knock me backwards.”

            The Phoenix made a noise then and Harry glanced down at the bird that was climbing into his lap to cry on the cut on his arm.

            The Dark Lord decided against petting the bird, not wanting to chance how perfect this was going.

            “I was suddenly free and I opened my eyes and saw a huge crater where the cauldron had stood and a large form in the center... Pettigrew had been blasted backwards towards Cedric and he wasn’t moving… the next part happened so fast, on instinct… I reached Pettigrew quickly and took back my wand. Cedric was lying there next to him.”

            Another well-positioned pause was taken for dramatic effect. Hell, the Dark Lord even made a tear fall down the boy’s cheek.

            “Then I heard something stirring, I think the dark shape in the crater began to move or something. I – there wasn’t much time and my only thought was trying to escape. I grabbed a hold of Pettigrew and Cedric and summoned the cup, hoping against hope it would take me back to Hogwarts and it did…”

            Harry turned into Sirius’ chest and exhaled deeply, all the while waiting to hear what Dumbledore would say. Of course, he wanted to ask about the Minister and Pettigrew and what was going on with all of that but he was counting on the man to believe him and didn’t want to push too far.

            Just a little uncertainty would go a long way.

            “I will say it again, Harry,” said Dumbledore as Fawkes finally left Harry’s lap to return to his perch.

            “You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected from you tonight, equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers.”

            ‘ _Ha! You call it brave to ask for your life to be spared_?’

           “You have shouldered a grown wizard’s burden and found yourself equal to it… you will come with me to the hospital wing for a Sleeping Potion and some sleep.”

            Harry nodded and appeared grateful that his Godfather would be allowed stay by his side in Animagus form when Dumbledore suggested it.

            Upon arriving in the hospital wing it became difficult for the Dark Lord to be in the presence of that many Weasleys and not get a chance to _Crucio_ the lot of them. But he had done well so far in staying in character as the Boy Who Lived and promised himself that if he behaved now he could keep one as a pet later.

            Thankfully, Dumbledore made it even easier for the Dark Lord to ignore them as he told them to give Harry space. The Headmaster then proceeded to watch Harry take a few sips of a Dreamless Sleep potion before leaving, upon which the Dark Lord pretending to sleep.

            He had done enough resting and was busy reliving through the events that had happened since he’d been in the boy’s body. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t overlooking anything and was prepared for what he expected to happen next.

            Which ended up being something that not even he could not have foreseen, for about thirty minutes after he had closed his eyes he heard the distinct shouting between Cornelius Fudge and Minerva McGonagall in the distance.

            The Dark Lord pretended to groggily open his eyes and sit up as the two burst through into the hospital wing.

            “Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva-” said Fudge, loudly.

            “You should never have brought that thing inside the castle!” McGonagall yelled back. “When Dumbledore finds out-”

            “Where is he, anyway?” Cornelius looked around, ignoring the stares of Poppy, the Weasleys, and everyone else present.

            “He’s not here!” Mrs. Weasley bristled just as the Headmaster walked in.

            “What has happened?” Dumbledore asked sharply.

            “Minerva, I’m surprised at you – I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -”

            “There’s no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that.”

            Something inside the Dark Lord stirred at seeing the normally composed Deputy Headmistress so irate. He never knew Minnie had it in her to become this undone.

            It only took a few more statements before the Dark Lord understood the reason why: Barty had been kissed by the Dementor that Fudge had used as his own personal bodyguard. It was beyond anything he could have hoped for.

            And several minutes later the Dark Lord had completely forgotten about his extreme disappointment in no longer being able to punish Crouch himself for taking him away from the Minister soon after he arrived in the maze. Because what was happening before his very eyes was something that nearly caused his dark magic to dance along his skin with glee.

With each back and forth between Dumbledore and Fudge it became crystal clear that Fudge was prepared to blame the deaths of the evening and everything else on Barty Crouch Junior and … Sirius Black. The Dark Lord didn’t know how the man had arrived at _that_ conclusion given there was also the body of Peter Pettigrew to contend with but he wasn’t going to complain.

Fate was finally on his side.

The Dark Lord would let the Minister be content with ignoring the word of a ‘fame-seeking fourth-year student’ now that Barty Crouch could not testify because he instantly saw how he could use this to his advantage.

Cornelius Fudge may have been an inept politician and nearly useless, but he was quite savvy at making sure that he stayed in power. The man would stop at nothing to quash any rumors about the Dark Lord’s return while reducing Dumbledore’s significant political clout to nothing since the Headmaster had believed Voldemort was back.

The Dark Lord would gladly take the likely smearing of his own name in the press, for a time, because when he later staged his fake battle between the Boy Who Lived and himself, the public would realize how wrong they had been about Harry Potter.

They would then believe anything that came out of the mouth of the Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord would wield that power to change the wizarding world, forever. His path to greatness would be nicely paved and Albus wouldn’t see it until the end.

            By that time, his followers would be where he wanted them to be and doing what he wanted them to do, and no one would be able to stop him.

            Not that they could because the Prophecy Child was no more.

            For the rest of the evening, while Albus discussed his plans to restart the Order of the Phoenix after Cornelius left in a parting of the ways, the Dark Lord began to plan his next steps.

            Meanwhile, his gaze settled on Severus Snape, who stood uncomfortably clutching his arm, and a flash of crimson passed through the Dark Lord’s eyes as he began to toy with the man’s Dark Mark with the very magic in his core.

            Things were finally looking up and he couldn’t wait to play.

* * *

           

**Well? Would love to know your thoughts. From here on out I will begin diverging from the books as the Dark Lord spreads his influence.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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